


Northern Downpour

by Louffox



Category: Youtube RPF
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, ice cream date, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trip to get some ice cream. It was simple, capricious, cheerful and indulgent.</p><p>Until it wasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Northern Downpour

**Author's Note:**

> I've really hesitated about posting this. It's been sitting in my Drive for a while now, with this much done. Initially, I'd planned on this being it. Now, though, I'm not sure- I may add to it. I have it in me to make it a multi-chapter, but the thing about this specific topic is that I don't know the ending, so it usually just slowly phases out. I can end it here, with this, and leave it as a one-shot. Or I can continue it and it'll probably not have and ending, or not have an ending that's... 'good'.
> 
> Anyways, this predicament is entirely up to me and I'm indecisive and you've yet to even read anything proper, so we'll figure this out as time passes.
> 
> Trigger warnings. This part isn't so dark, but if I continue, I can promise that it'll go places where it'll really get low and dark and gritty.

Jack peered out the window suspiciously. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“My weather app says it’s not supposed to rain for another two hours. That’s more than enough time to walk a block and order ice cream. Plus, I bet the clouds will scare all the faint of heart away, so there’ll be no line.” Mark sounded confident in his declaration, so Jack nodded and stepped into his shoes. “You’re wearing a hoodie anyways.”

“This had better be the best damn cookie dough in the world,” Jack grumbled.

“Ye of little faith.”

The ice cream shop was just as cute as Mark had promised. It just had a front window and all the flavors and options written on boards above the windows.

“This is disgustingly adorable,” Jack conceded.

“Isn’t it? I saw the mess of pastels when Ryan and Daniel had moved into town- I was trying to walk to their place to help them unpack and everything, but I went the wrong way. Anyways, I saw this, and I was like, that is so sugary cute on the outside, I need to know what sugary cute it has on the inside.”

“And it has cookie dough?”

“It has everything. This is America, we have, like, ten thousand ice cream flavors. Not just 32 or whatever the rest of the world has. But yes, cookie dough. Amazing cookie dough.”

“Should I get a dish, or a waffle cone?” Jack mused, eyes scanning the lists written above the window. “What’re you getting?”

“Get a waffle cone, they’re amazing- when you order at the window, you can smell them, and you’ll know it’s the right decision. I’m getting two scoops of black raspberry in a waffle cone, with rainbow sprinkles.”

“That sounds good.”

“It is,” Mark laughed. They both ordered. Mark got his first, but he refused to eat any until Jack got his, so he could see his face.

Jack finally got his- two scoops of cookie dough in a thick, crisp, golden brown waffle cone, untainted by any sprinkles or toppings. Vanilla ice cream and lumps of raw cookie. Jack took his first bite, closing his eyes to maximize his sense of taste.

“So? Good or not?” Mark asked. Jack could hear the impatience in his voice.

“This cookie dough ice cream.”

“Is…?”

“This. Cookie dough. Ice cream.” Jack took a breath and opened his eyes. “Is AMAZING! Holy shit where has this been all my life! Twisty fresh nipples, so good!”

“So… it’s good?”

“I could cut glass with my nips right now! I’ve finally found something that’s enough to make me leave Ireland and it’s this!”

Mark had started giggling uncontrollably. “You’re shouting about nipples, Jack, there are children around.”

“So? Children should know my love of this ice cream,” Jack said defensively, taking another bite. “Sweet Jesus, this is good. Perfect ice cream, the most elegant vanilla I’ve ever had, with perfectly sized and spaced raw cookie notes. The ratio of cookie dough to ice cream is damn perfect. You weren’t kidding.”

“I never kid,” Mark snorted. “Glad it lives up to expectation. I was worried I talked it all up and turns out you’d had better.”

“You think if I was to fly a tub of this back to Ireland with me, airport security would confiscate it?”

“Yeah. Maybe you could mail it,” Mark mused. They meandered over to a bench and sat down to enjoy their desserts.

“Maybe. I’d have to special mail it, in a freezer-plane. That exists, right?”

“I’m sure. People mail frozen things. I mean, they’ve got to. It might have to be a freezer cargo ship or something. I don’t know.”

“If they can safely fly ebola people around, then I’m pretty sure they could plug a freezer into something and get me this. I want to come back here at least once before the end of the week, before I leave,” Jack declared.

All too soon, the ice cream was gone and he was crunching on his waffle cone. He tried to be mournful about the loss of the cookie dough, but the waffle cone was too delicious to be upset.

"I've never been a cone guy- I usually just wanna enjoy my ice cream- but this could swing me."

"I hate those last few bites."

"Cause all the melted ice cream leaks out all over you?" Mark asked through a mouthful of cone.

"No, cause I still have a little bit of deliciousness but I know it'll be gone in a second. Like coming to the end of a really good book. You're nearly there, but you don't know if you want to finish because then it's over."

Mark pondered that for a moment. "You know what I think?"

"Mmm?"

"I think you take your ice cream too seriously."

"Oh yeah, well, you know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you were wrong about the rain."

Mark stuck out an upturned palm. Sure enough, several drops appeared on his skin.

"It's just a drizzle," he declared. No more than ten seconds later-

"This is not a drizzle!" Jack shouted over the torrent of rain. It was pouring buckets out. He and Mark jumped up, and Mark  hurriedly led them back to his  apartment. It was less than a ten minute walk, but by the time they got indoors, they were dripping.

"I feel like a drowned rat," Jack groaned, wiping rainwater from his face. "Some drizzle."

"Oh shut up. I might've been a little wrong."

"Yeah, a little wrong. Like I'm a little damp."

"I didn't expect it to start raining so hard so fast."

"Neither did I. That was nuts." Jack stepped out of his sneakers with a squelch and peeled off his socks.

"I'm gonna change into something dry. I can lend you something dry too, and I'll put our clothes in the dryer," Mark suggested.

"Alright. Thanks," Jack said. He'd already started shivering.

They gingerly went upstairs, trailing water. Mark got them both towels, and tossed Jack a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. "If you're soaked to skin like I am, you might have to go commando," Mark said apologetically. Jack grinned.

"Nothing new there," he joked. Mark snorted, and Jack went into the bathroom to change. He pulled off his hoodie, cringing as he peeled the wet cotton away from his skin, and hesitated to drop it on the floor and leave a puddle. Instead, he carefully rolled it up and gingerly squeezed it out over the bathtub, wrinkling his nose at the ridiculous amount of water that came out. He unrolled it and gave it a gentle shake to try to get the wrinkles out, and laid it over the side. His pants and boxers received the same treatment, before he turned to the pile of dry clothes.

He pulled on the sweatpants. They were dry and thick and gray and comfortable. He picked up the shirt.

Immediately, he realized he had a problem. The shirt Mark lent him was short sleeved.

He considered his hoodie. He absolutely did not want to put it on- he still had goosebumps and wringing it out had reduced it from dripping to soggy.

 _C’mon, Jackaboy. What are you gonna do?_ he wondered, chewing at the inside of his lip. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. Right. Right. What to do.

He pulled on the t-shirt, because that was probably a good start. But he still couldn’t just go out there. Or maybe he could- he could just be careful and tell Mark he was cold and wanted a sweatshirt, and he’d just have to manage for a few seconds. He saw no other options, so he turned to the mirror and carefully rearranged his stance, finding a way to stand that was casual but worked, and then opened the door and went out.

“Mark, you got any sweatshirts or anything? I’m still freezin’,” he called, wandering into Mark’s room.

“Yeah, sure, hold on.” Mark dug around on the top shelf of his closet and pulled down a black hoodie, and held it out to Jack.

Fuck.

He stared at the hoodie. He could feel his face freezing, and he felt like he couldn’t get the used air out of his lungs.

Mark’s brows furrowed. “Jack?”

“I…” He didn’t know what he was planning on saying.

“You okay? What’s wrong?” Mark asked, worried, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Jack did the only thing he could do- he reached out and took the hoodie.

Mark’s wrist circled his.

The silence was like a physical thing, cloying and cold. It seemed to last aeons.

“Jesus, Sean,” Mark sighed, releasing his wrist and rubbing his eyes. Jack folded the hoodie and set it on Mark’s bed, and then sat down beside it.

“Yeah, I… sorry,” he said awkwardly. He didn’t know what he was apologizing for.

“I… god. I had no idea. I didn’t see this, I would’ve never guessed. Shit,” Mark breathed, sitting down beside him. Jack glanced over- Mark was staring resolutely at him. Boldly. Compassionately. There was nothing but concern in Mark’s eyes.

“I’m… I’m good. At hiding it. I never… I’m not, like, depressed or anything. I never really had a problem, I just… I just needed it sometimes to balance myself out. It’s like… it was whatever I needed it to be. If I was tired, it would pep me up. If I was jittery, it relaxed me. It made me mellow when I was manic, and happy when I wasn’t, and it’s like… I dunno. I don’t really have a solid reason,” he said, struggling to put words to something so ineffable.

“You don’t have to feel like you owe me an explanation or anything. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But if you do want to talk… Believe it or not, I’m a good listener too. I’d like to hear your story. The one thing I need to know…” he trailed off, gently taking Jack’s arms and putting them on his lap, palms-up.

The rows and rows of periwinkle-colored ridges glared up at Jack and Mark, damning evidence of a dangerous habit.

“... Is if you’re okay.”

Jack’s breath whooshed out of him. “I… I’m okay. Or, I am now. I thought I was then, I never really realized I wasn’t okay. But looking back, I probably wasn’t okay.” He shook his head, knowing he wasn’t making much sense. “I’m okay. I’m through that part of my life.”

“Alright. I’m glad you’re okay. But I’m really sad you had to go through this. Nobody should ever be so broken that this is the only thing they can turn to. I wish I had been there to help. So, if you need help ever again, please call on me? I can’t fix things, but I can do my damndest to do whatever I can to help,” he said firmly.

Jack smiled and nodded- he didn’t trust himself to speak. Mark looked down at the marks again, proof of years of self-abuse, symptomatic of some internal turmoil.

“Can I… Can I touch them? You can say no, I get it,” Mark added hurriedly.

“Yeah, sure,” Jack said, shrugging. He expected Mark to run his fingers over them and tensed, not frightened or anything, but ready for the tickle over the sensitive skin of his inner arms.

Instead, Mark raised one of Jack’s arms and ducked his head to gently press his lips to Jack’s wrist, an especially dense cluster of lines.

“I want to take care of you. I feel like… like I need to protect you. I just want to wrap you in my arms and shield you from the world,” Mark whispered against Jack’s wrist, punctuating his sentence with firm, silent kisses. “I know you don’t feel the same, that’s fine. I just need you to know how much I care, and that if you ever need me, I’ll be here. Right here. At your side.”

“Oh, Mark,” Jack sighed, corners of his mouth lifting. “Don’t be daft.” He put a finger under Mark’s chin and tilted his face up, so he was kissing his mouth rather than his wrist. “We’ll be okay.”

He could feel Mark smile against his lips.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge sucker for comments. I tend to count those instead of counting kudos's, so say what you think about this! And with this topic, I usually reply to comments. Let me know whatever you feel you need me to know. Give constructive criticism. Point out spelling errors. Give me prompts for other stories. Have at it!


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